Live to Run
by Genesis R
Summary: There are some things more important than life itself — it's a heavy sacrifice to trade friends in danger for no friends at all. What is there to live for when you have nothing left to lose? AU of Crisis Core's ending.
1. Chapter 1

Live to Run

_by Genesis R_

Chapter 1

* * *

Life on the road wasn't all it was cracked up to be, Zack mused. There was no wanderlust, no joy in the next day, no wonder in the sights to be seen. It was just endless miles of dirt and concrete slipping by underfoot, walking until weary muscles screamed for rest, and then stopping only long enough for cramps to set in before having to push onward again.

Take right now, for instance. He and Cloud were wedged like sardines among a pile of crates on a Junon wharf, listening to the sea and the distant shouts of the Shinra army on the hunt. Zack could smell the salt tang in the air mixed with the faint aroma of fish. Cloud's limp body was a dead weight against his shoulder, pinning down his left arm and making his hand go numb. Zack shifted slightly, just enough so he could crane his neck backward and see the water, dark and serene, stretching to the horizon. There was no moon tonight; only the lights of the city towering high above them wavered in the water's reflection.

Zack's fingers toyed with a splinter of wood on the dock's edge. It broke off suddenly and he dropped it, watched as it bobbed along on the water's surface and drifted away. The shouts were faint now even to enhanced ears, and Zack flopped back in relief, lying flat on the damp wood planks and letting Cloud's weight fall onto his chest. He looked down at the back of the head of golden spikes and familiarly ran his hand through them.

"Looks like we've got some breathing room tonight, buddy."

A faint groan was the only answer, but even that was an improvement over the months of absolute silence. Anything was better than that; Zack had thought he would go mad, no one to talk to, no one there to offer him support, only the heartbreaking task of dragging the soulless body of his best friend step after step all over the world and still no end in sight. But for tonight at least, they could rest. Tonight, Cloud had groaned and the troops had given up and the night was dark and silent, and Zack could almost imagine that they were truly free.

What would he do if he was free? He could hardly remember the feeling. He could hardly remember what an ordinary life was like. Not that his had ever been ordinary to start with, but life...not on the run.

He rarely let thoughts like this occur to him, aware that he couldn't afford to let his attention wander from reality to daydreams, but tonight felt like a good night to lie back and think.

Even if this was all over, he could never go back to the Tower. Not even if Shinra gave him a full pardon and reinstatement as First. There was no way he could ever ally himself with an organization that conducted experiments on human beings, no way.

There was always the idea of mercenary, travelling soldier-of-fortune, but right now the last thing Zack wanted to consider for his future was a life on the road. No, thank you, he wanted to find somewhere to lie down and to be left there for a good long while.

And he knew just the place...

oooOoOooo

Aerith. Her grace, her smile, her church had never seemed as comforting, welcoming, as it did right then.

The infantry, after a year of searching and not finding, would be ordered back to Midgar for more fruitful assignments. They would assume that Zack was gone, or dead, or so deep in hiding that he'd never come out, but they'd be wrong. He would follow them all the way back to Midgar, treading on their heels in his anxious haste, Cloud in tow. While the troops took the route under the sun back to the Tower, the two fugitives would race through the shadows, heading straight as a homing bird for the dilapidated church in Sector 5.

Aerith would be there for them, of course. Zack felt a sob build up in him at the thought until he felt that he would burst, his heart beating painfully hard. It had been so long, too long.

Maybe she could help Cloud? If anyone could, it would be her, with her warm smile and gentle touch and heart of an angel.

But Cloud could wait half a moment in this daydream. This moment belonged only to two.

Aerith ran to her soldier's arms. Zack embraced her, holding her so close he could feel every breath she took against his chest, but so carefully, as if she was a baby bird with newly-fledged wings.

"Zack," she murmured into his neck, and he pressed her tighter, breathing in the scent of flowers that clung to her hair and dress and skin.

"Aerith, Aerith, I'll never leave you again. I promise..." He could feel her heart beating, and under the perfume of the flowers he could smell her indefinable essence, but under that...wait...under that was something equally familiar...

oooOoOooo

Zack did have his arms around someone, his face buried in someone's hair — but it wasn't Aerith's.

"Oh, gee, sorry, Cloud!" He hurriedly loosened his arms from around the softly snoring blond and concentrated on slowing his suddenly frantic pulse. The army was still out of earshot and a breeze had risen up, warm and soothing, and Zack let himself drift back to sleep, Cloud's even breathing matching his own, inhale for exhale.

The next morning dawned just like every other morning that Zack could remember. The horizon was always different for every sunrise, but the sun itself stayed the same, looking down with an equal eye on mountains and seas, on hunters and the fox run to earth. Time to be off again. As comfortable and safe as the dock was, this wouldn't last forever, and Zack wanted to gain as large a head start as he could. Too much precious time had already been wasted the previous night, time spent dreaming when they should have been running.

While the army was still probably in their bunks or just stumbling out to reveille, Zack sat up, Cloud sliding bonelessly to his lap, and he stretched his aching muscles. Wood, especially splintery wood, certainly didn't make a good bed.

"What do you want for breakfast, Cloudy-boy? Week-old field rations and a half canteen of stale water? I hope so, 'cause that's the menu, for me at least. You don't know how lucky you are, not having to eat." At least, Zack hoped the infantryman didn't need to eat. The first few attempts had proved quite messy, and he didn't seem to be any worse off now for not having eaten in many days. Then again, he wasn't looking any better, either.

Zack stuffed half a ration bar in his mouth as he peeked out over the crates to make sure the coast was clear. Swallowing quickly, he dropped into a few squats, getting his body ready for another day. Cloud slumped deeper against the barrel he was propped against and Zack hauled him up by the shoulders.

"Be patient; just one more minute. I gotta eat, even if you don't." He finished the ration in two more mouthfuls and took a long drink from his canteen. "Ready?"

Zack pulled the blond upright by one arm and braced his knees to take the familiar weight. Now that he was back on the job, his night of leisure over, he didn't have any breath to waste on idle chatter. Everything he'd ever wanted to say to Cloud, he'd already had ample opportunity to say it to him. Twice.

The two moved down the dock, keeping next to the stacks of cargo as much as they could. There was a ship at the end of the wharf, not a huge thing and certainly no luxury liner, but large enough to hide two stowaways looking for free passage to Midgar. But they needed to hurry and get well situated aboard before the crew came down for the day. It would have been miserable, but he should have made them spend the night on the ship.

Hearing footsteps approaching quickly, Zack hesitated just a moment at the bottom of the ramp. If it was the crew, he'd just lost his chance to sneak on board and he'd have to risk the army and wait for the next boat; if he was seen...well, nine months of running would be wasted and both of them would die. It really was no choice. A second later, the two were once again behind a pile of boxes, Zack cursing silently at his bad luck. The breath of freedom the previous night would cost them dearly.

The unhurried steps continued, up the ramp and into Zack's limited field of view. He'd thought to perhaps sneak on board behind whoever this was, but his hopes were dashed when he saw the unmistakeable black suit of a Turk. What were they doing here? Hunting him, no doubt. Which meant that he was a higher priority target than he'd thought, which meant that the army wouldn't be giving up any time soon.

_I see a lot more years of running in our future, Cloud. Hope you like my company._

The Turk — a slim darkhaired girl who he didn't recognize — stopped halfway up the ramp into the ship and pulled out her PHS. Zack would have groaned if the noise wouldn't have meant their deaths. Pressed against his chest, Cloud breathed heavily and Zack clamped a hand over his mouth just in case.

The cell conversation didn't last long — Zack strained to hear it, but the sea's murmur made individual words impossible to make out — and the Turk continued on up the ramp and into the ship. One avenue of escape down. Frowning, Zack let himself fall heavily against the crate behind him. The tiniest of tears stung his eyes and he stared morosely down at Cloud.

"Is it really that much to ask, to get to see her one more time?" he said softly. Cloud sighed against him, his breath warm on Zack's skin, and the one-time SOLDIER pulled the unconscious man into a tight, desperate embrace.

What did it matter any more if the infantryman saw him break? The blond couldn't comfort him, couldn't be frightened by his weakness, couldn't even make any sign that he was aware of him at all. But to keep them both alive Zack had to remain strong, had to go on because Cloud couldn't do it himself, even as Zack was slowly losing hope of ever living before the army ran him into his grave.

Zack didn't put the effort any more into keeping a smiling face and a cheerful voice; Cloud had been with him every inch of the way and he knew just how bad things were. There was no hiding the truth, not from Cloud. Zack only wished he could hide it from himself, hold onto that little dying ember of hope a while longer before the real world closed in around him.

Nothing for it but to move on.

Making sure that the Turk was belowdeck and was staying there, Zack began the perilous journey down the wharf, past last night's resting spot, and onto the coastal streets of Junon. It was early enough that there were no people visible and the warehouses and shipyards that lined the street provided enough cover so the two were able to travel in relative safety to the gate into Lower Junon. There Zack hesitated. His travel plans were a bit hazy — mainly consisting of keeping himself and Cloud out of bullet-range of their pursuers — and he couldn't decide where to go. The troops were surely barracked somewhere in Lower Junon, which would be a huge risk, but they also were so self-confident that they would never dream that their prey was hiding right under their noses. If he could find a safe place to lie low until the army left town, he could sneak out behind them and gain perhaps weeks of travel time.

A risk worth taking? Zack looked at the unconscious man hanging from his shoulder, and his face tightened. Nothing was worth Cloud's life. Safer to be on the road. He turned away from the gate and made his painfully slow way toward the opposite end of the street, where stood the gate to the wilderness and freedom. Freedom to run and run until they died.

The gate wasn't guarded — or at least, it hadn't been when they'd snuck into the city yesterday as part of a farmers' caravan. Zack only hoped their luck would hold and they would get out of the city without a fight. He just wasn't in the mood for killing anyone today. Not that he ever wanted to, but some days it was easier to resign himself to it. Today, all he wanted was Aerith, his desire so strong he could almost taste her.

The gate loomed over them, huge and grim as a fortress, red lights like eyes dotting its surface and its portcullis mouth firmly shut. Leaving Cloud propped in a corner, Zack hurried to a mechanism mounted into the wall and quickly typed the code to open the gate. It was half a dozen years or so since he'd last been here chasing Hollander, and he prayed that the code hadn't changed. It hadn't, and the heavy metal slid upward, letting in a rush of morning wind fresh off the plains beyond. Zack smiled at the feeling, letting the clean air wash over him and disperse the dockyard stink. This was what it meant to be alive.

He headed back to collect Cloud but halfway to the infantryman, a slight noise attracted his attention. The army squadron — the one he'd thought to be in bed, cold on the trail — was assembling in tight formation just outside the gate, the front rank kneeling with their rifles raised, the second row standing with drawn swords, the commanders and heavy artillery stationed at the sides. How had they known — ?

Zack dove for Cloud, knocking him heavily to the ground as bullets screamed through the air just overhead. The Buster Sword was out in an instant, its broad blade providing meager shelter for the two as Zack dragged Cloud backward. The wide concrete base of a street lamp was better cover than none, and Zack wedged the blond into the triangle of safe space in its lee before stepping out to face the oncoming wall of troops.

Facing such a barrage of bullets, he fully expected at least some to get past the Sword's defense, but none struck him.

"Take him alive!" he heard one of the captains yell, and that was a more terrifying command than a death sentence. No way was he going to be taken alive; he'd cut his own throat before going back into that hell, and the same went for Cloud. But there was also no way under the sun that he was ever going to kill Cloud, so he simply wasn't going to get recaptured. Now to put that plan into action.

The squad had replaced their guns with swords and were advancing en masse, leaving no gap in their ranks, each man protecting the side of the man next to him. Zack couldn't get close without exposing himself to multiple blades — _if_ he employed his usual method of attack, running up and swinging his sword. Unconventional had always appealed to him, though; he noted their tactics in a single glance and adapted accordingly. Instead of charging the line, he ran at the nearest wall, trailing the Buster Sword. As he neared it he arced the heavy blade overhead, its weight and his own momentum carrying him several strides up the wall, before he launched himself backward, catapulting over the startled troops' heads and landing behind their battle line.

They broke formation immediately, some spinning around to continue the fight, others going for their guns in a panic, some simply fleeing for the nearest cover. In the end, it didn't matter what they did, for Zack advanced like an out-of-control war machine, sweeping aside everything in his path without regard for life or limb, uncaring of the horrific damage his sword was wreaking. Out of spite, one dying trooper with his last breath took aim at Cloud's hiding place, at the blond head that had fallen sideways and was visible, but before he could fire the Buster Sword was in his heart and the rest of the squad threw down their weapons and fled.

Zack stood in the middle of the bloody street for a long time, catching his breath and telling himself that it was over, there were no more troops at the moment and he could breathe again like last night. But it wasn't like last night at all: the air of peace was utterly shattered now, the illusion was broken and it was clear that once again they had to move or die. Zack strode back to Cloud and knelt next to him, propped him upright and let his hand rest on the blond's shoulder.

"What do I do?" the ex-SOLDIER murmured, bowing his head. "How far should I run before making a stand?" Cloud's head rolled forward and Zack used his other hand to lift the infantryman's chin. Hazy blue eyes stared past him at nothing and Zack looked away quickly. "As long as I've got you, I guess that's a moot point. Up we go."

Ignoring the muffled groan from Cloud, Zack hoisted him to his shoulder once more and supported his staggering walk out through the open gate and into the fresh breeze of the countryside.


	2. Chapter 2

Live to Run

_by Genesis R_

Chapter 2

* * *

A fortnight later saw them a long way from the coast, somewhere between Junon and the Mythril Mines. The army still dogged them, but at a more respectful distance, as if now more of a surveillance force than a search-and-capture. But weakened though it was, it was still strong enough for Zack to not dare face it, not while he had Cloud's welfare to consider. Stalemate, but it was better than annihilation. Or recapture.

The sun was setting bloody crimson behind them when the two came upon a small farmhouse nestled in the gentle foothills of the dividing range. A thin trail of smoke drifted from the chimney and a single scrawny chocobo pecked at the dirt around the front porch. Not intimidating, but Zack wasn't taking any chances. He retreated to the far side of the hills and circled around to the back of the house, where there was still no sign of life.

"Stay here for a bit, Cloud. I'll be right back." He laid the blond down under the cover of a wild rose bush, then he adjusted the angle of the huge sword at his back, making sure it was within easy reach, before advancing on the house.

He needed food desperately. Cloud, as usual, gave no sign of appearing hungry or thirsty, but Zack himself was on the verge of collapse. One thing no one mentioned about SOLDIERs was that a side effect of mako was a quickened metabolism. It helped tremendously with healing and muscle development, but it meant that sustenance was a constant problem, especially in this game-poor landscape.

Making what cover he could from scattered bushes and the shadow pooling at the foot of a dilapidated barn, Zack finally made it to the cottage's back door just as the sun fell completely below the horizon. The valley was plunged into sudden darkness. Zack blinked and narrowed his eyes, well aware of how visible the mako glow made him.

The door was shut and all the windows were curtained. It could be a trap, or it could be an innocent farmer who, with any luck, wasn't even aware of Shinra's Most Wanted list. He took the Buster Sword and leaned it against the doorframe, out of sight to anyone opening the door but right there in case it was needed. Zack raised his hand to knock. It was funny, he thought, funny in a sad way, that he was more afraid of knocking on some stranger's door than he was of facing a squad of armed men. That's what being a fugitive did to a man. He rapped once and stepped aside quickly.

No bullets came breaking through the door, no alarm was raised, and for once the ordinary happened: a young girl in a plain dress and apron opened the door and peeked out into the darkness with all the calm curiosity of a country dweller not used to visitors.

"Hello?" she said, before noticing Zack's black-clad form just outside the rectangle of light cast by the open door. "Hello, sir. Is there anything I can do for you?"

He glanced over her shoulder but there was no sign of troops or an ambush. "Hello," he replied, remembering to act friendly and as if this was a not-unusual occurence for him. "I got lost in these hills and I'm not equipped to spend the night outside. Could you spare some food? I don't have much I can give you in return, but —"

"That's all right," she interrupted, sounding like Aerith did when she'd made up her mind and didn't want Zack to argue. "Come on in. We've got plenty to spare."

Zack restrained himself from looking back toward Cloud's hiding spot as he swung the Buster Sword to his back and stepped inside. The girl stared at the huge weapon for a moment as if regretting her invitation, but then her eyes widened and her gaze moved to his face as if she expected to recognize him.

He didn't trust himself to remain impassive under scrutiny so he looked around the kitchen instead. There was a sturdy table, chairs, a potato box, and a large stone hearth. By the fire sat an old man, hunched with age. He turned his head toward them as the girl shut the door and Zack realized that the man's eyes were opaque, clouded blue. His thin beard wavered as he opened his mouth, trying to force words out of his throat.

"It's all right, Grandfather. This is a lost traveller who came here looking for dinner. He's a friend. Okay?"

The old man nodded, his mouth still moving with quiet smacking noises, and turned back to the fire. The girl bustled about, bringing out bread and vegetables and a small portion of meat and setting them on the table. Meanwhile, Zack felt utterly out of place — an armored warrior among such simple folk, carrying a weapon into a house that should never need weapons. But at the same time, the girl didn't seem too surprised. It was almost as if she had been waiting for him.

Zack picked up a piece of bread and downed it in two mouthfuls while he considered his options. The safest bet would be to keep moving tonight, but his stomach argued otherwise. At the very least, he hoped there was enough time for him to get a decent meal before continuing. He moved on to the meat next, eating it with his hands as he stood by the table.

What to do, what to do?

Remembering Cloud lying helpless on the cold ground under the rose bush, Zack decided to test his luck. If there was a trap here, he wanted it sprung earlier rather than later.

"My name's...Jack. Jack Black. Thanks for putting me up tonight. You are...?"

The girl looked at him, amber eyes flickering orange in the firelight. "I'm Ceera. That's Grandfather." She hesitated. "Are you sure your name is Jack? We were told someone like you would be along —"

She didn't finish the sentence, as the Buster Sword was out in that instant; for lack of any obvious enemies, it was pointed at her, although the hand holding it shook. Ceera took a step back but Zack kept the sword level. He'd wanted to trust her. Why did everything have to fall apart?

"I'm not your enemy," the girl said earnestly, her face a mix of fear and pity. "I was told to give you a message."

Zack lowered the sword's point from her chest but kept the blade in his hand. "How do I know you're not lying?"

"Do I look like I could stand a chance against you? Does Grandfather? Please believe me."

"What's the message?"

Behind Ceera, the old man chuckled to himself, unaware of the rest of the world.

Slowly, keeping her hands in sight, Ceera stepped to the mantel and took down a wrinkled envelope. Zack took it at arm's-length and retreated to the far side of the kitchen before looking down at the paper in his hand. That handwriting — Aerith's! He ripped it open instantly and unfolded the letter with shaking hands.

_Dear Zack,_

_I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I'm writing it anyway. Life's been good so far. The money from the flowers has really helped. I know you don't like it, but Tseng's been hanging around a lot. I think I'm running out of time. I hope they don't read these letters because they'll probably censor this and it will never get to you, but it's worth a try. Maybe you don't care for me any more. That's okay. Or maybe you do but for some reason you can't answer. That's okay, too. I'll figure something out._

_Zack, I'm scared. Tseng keeps dropping hints that I should leave the city, but I'm too afraid of the sky. I wish you were here with me to prove there's nothing to fear. I know I'm being silly; you're travelling the world, and I'm too afraid to peek out from under the Plate. When I do go into the upper city to sell flowers, it's always at night, and I leave again before dawn._

_I don't know if I'll be able to send you any more letters after this, Zack. I hope I'll get to see you again. Be careful, okay?_

_Love, Aerith_

Blue eyes blinked at the paper before Zack folded it carefully and slid it into his pocket. "I'd better be going. Thank you for dinner." He bent and picked up the envelope from where it had fallen to the floor. It felt strangely heavy in his hand and as he turned it over a second piece of paper slipped out of it. Snatching it midflight, Zack's heart felt heavy as he noticed the dark, precise handwriting. Not a girl's hand, surely.

_Zack —_

_The trains have been stopped; no one is getting in or out. Shinra has news of the Cetra in the Midgar slums and wants her found. It's my job or my friendship. Don't ask me to make the noble choice. If you're going to see her again, it needs to be soon, and you'll need an alternate route to enter the city. An escape plan would also serve you well._

_Troops are closing in, Zack, and not just on you. Not all the Turks are your friends. Make sure my faith in you isn't misplaced._

_Tseng_

It was dated almost a week after Aerith's letter.

Zack sat down suddenly on one of the chairs, the wood creaking at the burden. Ceera took a step forward, hands clasped tightly together, then stopped as the Buster Sword thudded flat to the floor by Zack's side.

"Bad news?" she asked, glancing nervously from him to the weapon as if anticipating a killing frenzy. "Is there anything I can do?"

Shaking his head, Zack stood up again, his mind filled and empty all at once. Aerith was in grave danger, the same danger he and Cloud were facing, and he wasn't there to protect her. He didn't doubt that she could take care of herself, but even he would have a hard time getting out of a deadlocked city. Of course, it wouldn't be any easier to get _into_ one, especially having to carry Cloud with him...

The SOLDIER looked at Ceera, who returned the stare with wide frightened eyes. "There is something you can do. Two things, actually. Are you willing?"

It was trust her or die; there wasn't much choice. And although Zack knew that sometimes innocents were the worst traitors, he couldn't believe that this simple farm girl would betray him. He couldn't let himself even imagine the possibility, because once that happened, all roads really would be closed.

Cloud or Aerith. How to choose? He couldn't.

Zack ran back to the rose bush on the hillside where Cloud was staring blindly up at the moonlight shining through the thorny branches. The SOLDIER didn't say a word, only turned the blond's head away from the sky as he picked him up in his arms and carried him slowly toward the farmhouse.

"I'm sorry, Cloud, I really am. I would prefer running forever, but...well...this sucks. I've gotta make a choice. You or Aerith. I can't take you into Midgar with me, not like this, and I can't leave her to her fate. I hope you'll understand." Cloud's head rolled limply and his face pressed into Zack's shoulder pauldron. The SOLDIER stopped several yards from the porch and looked down at the boy in his arms.

"I won't say it's been a great five years, but I'm glad you were there. But everything's gotta end; maybe some rest will be good for you. Yeah, that would be great, when Aerith and I come back, if you're all better and we can go and live our lives like we were meant to. Til then, though...I guess this is goodbye." Zack tightened his grip on the unresponsive body and briefly, awkwardly, pressed his lips to the cool forehead.

Then he hurried to the house and pushed open the door with a foot. Ceera was where he'd left her, crouched by her grandfather as if awaiting a massacre, but she stood up as he entered. Her eyes immediately went to Cloud's face and she took a step forward, hands up in a motherly gesture.

"Poor thing," she breathed, then cringed and looked up at Zack to see his reaction. He kept his face stern as he knelt by the fire, letting the heat chase away the chill of the outside.

"He's sick. I don't know if you've ever heard of mako poisoning, but that's what he's got. He can't move, can't talk — but he's still in there." He ran a hand through golden-yellow hair. "He needs rest. Just keep him quiet and I think he'll get better. Don't tell anyone he's here. I'll be back as soon as I can — maybe a couple of weeks, maybe much longer — and he'd better still be here. Understand?"

Ceera nodded mutely and shivered. She reached out a tentative hand and laid it on Cloud's forehead, brushing his hair from his eyes. "I'll keep him safe, I promise." Zack glanced up at the sound of tears in her voice.

"What is it?" he asked gently, reminded that she was only a country girl who'd probably never seen soldiers before. This all must be terribly frightening for her.

"He looks like my brother."

Zack tensed. He listened carefully, but there was no sound from the rest of the house.

"He died two years ago. I'll take good care of your friend."

"Thank you," didn't seem to suffice.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to anyone and everyone who reads this — it means a lot to me that you've invested some of your time in my work.

Zack's not the most imaginative when it comes to pseudonyms. As my beta said, "It's kinda stupid, but it's so Zack."

Till next time!


End file.
